


January 1st: New Year's

by PawneePorpoise



Series: A Year Of Destiel Holiday Drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester Drabble(s), Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drunken Kissing, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawneePorpoise/pseuds/PawneePorpoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and Cas are celebrating New Year's with a low key night in the bunker. Cas isn't really sure why humans put so much into celebrating the turn of a new year, but maybe by the end of the night he'll change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	January 1st: New Year's

**3!**

**2!**

**1!**

The crowd goes wild with cheers on the small vintage television in the men of letters bunker as the clock strikes midnight in Kansas welcoming in 2016 with as much fanfare and confetti as they could fit into Times Square.

Sam, seated on the floor closest to the TV, is only half paying attention to the show, at this point more interested in looking for their first case to kick off the New Year than watching the fake-tanned talk show hosts kiss up to a parade of celebrities.

Across the room Dean has settled into “his” end of the couch with what is probably his 4th or 5th glass of whiskey in hand as he absentmindedly hums Auld Lang Syne, eyes drifting shut as the alcohol warms his body.

Though he started out at the complete opposite end of said couch, Cas, closer to 10 drinks in (he is an Angel after all) has shifted horizontally, sprawling across the sofa, head on the cushion closest to Dean, tips of his dark mess of hair brushing against the elder Winchester’s leg when either of them moved.

His bright blue eyes are trained upwards studying the contours of the scruffy jaw overhead. Not that he needs to of course, Castiel has everything about Dean memorized, has for years since he recreated his body after pulling his soul from an eternity in Hell. But he enjoys watching Dean just exist. For Cas it's all about the little things most people are moving too fast to notice. The way his pulse thrums just below the surface of his skin in that spot below his jaw. Chest rising and falling in a slow steady pattern as he fights off inevitable, much needed sleep. The way his calloused fingers drum an unconscious pattern against the side of his glass, causing the whiskey to slosh around inside. All of these things aren’t really unique for a human, but together they make up a series of actions that Cas can only explain as being in essence Dean. And in the millennia he has spent in existence, of all the languages he has learned and all the sights he has seen, for the life of him he can’t put any other words to the sight currently before his eyes. 

Cas was so lost in his thoughts, eyes skimming across each spiked tip of Dean’s hair that he doesn’t realize he’s being watched until his gaze drops lower and he’s met with a piercing green stare looking down at him. His breath catches, and he’s not sure if Dean has said something to him and he just didn’t reply, or if this conversation, like so many of theirs, is being carried out solely through non-verbal cues. They stay frozen like this for only a few seconds, though the movement of time seems to slow down. Even the television sounds far, far away. Cas moves, almost imperceptibly closer to Dean, the only tell is that now his hair is actually smashed down against the denim clad thigh. 

Dean is still holding his gaze, and maybe staring at each other for this long without saying anything should be uncomfortable, but for them, it's just the norm. What’s new about this, and maybe it’s the 5 whiskeys, or maybe it's the new year resolution spirit everyone tends to find themselves in at this time each year, but Dean’s hand slowly slides off his thigh and down to cup the side of Cas’ face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. Cas breaks eye contact to glance quickly at the arm extending itself towards him, then leans gently against Dean’s hand as he exhales a long breath he forgot he was still holding. But he doesn’t have much time for anything else, because when he darts his eyes back up to find Dean again, he’s already much closer than Cas expected, and suddenly their mouths are crashing together. 

The whole thing is pretty uncoordinated. First of all he’s upside down so they don’t quite align in a comfortable way, but Dean isn’t holding back and doesn’t seem to mind the mix of whiskey lingering in the hot space of breath between them. When they finally pull away, Dean only moves back enough for both of their eyes to focus again, and the toothy grin plastered on Cas’ face is enough to tell him his forward advance was the right move. 

“What was that for?”, Cas asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s just a - uh - human tradition on New Year's.”, Dean replies, a deep shade of pink coloring his cheeks.

Cas opens his mouth to reply but, just then catches the beginnings of Sam speaking to them and Dean quickly rights himself. But as Cas goes to sit up, a hand catches his shoulder, sliding him back down into a lying position, only closer still to Dean as his head now rests fully in the hunter’s lap. Cas still isn’t looking at Sam, but he catches the slight fumble in his words at what he assumes is the realization of his and Dean’s current arrangement. But Sam recovers quickly, and without question continues with his story about a potential case. 

Cas tries to listen, but his eyes have drifted shut and Dean’s fingers are now weaving their way through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in the most soothing of ways. At the beginning of the night he wasn’t quite sure why the turn of a single year was something to celebrate so grandly, but the warmth radiating through his body after their kiss and the somersaults his stomach couldn’t seem to stop doing were enough to sell him on the concept. 

Sam’s finished his pitch for a case and Dean has agreed they should probably look into it. Cas opens his eyes again and Dean’s staring back down at him, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“Hey Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Happy New Year”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Turns out when I was going through my tumblr drafts the other day I apparently wrote this while *maybe* (alright definitely) intoxicated on New Year's Eve, but then promptly forgot about it. Finding it again has inspired me to write a year's worth of holiday drabbles with my favorite ship, the rest of which I hope to do sober. 
> 
> If you have ideas or prompts for specific holidays (I'll even do some crazy holiday's if you have them. Here's looking at you National Hot Dog Day) come see me on [tumblr](http://personal-space-pls-cas.tumblr.com/) and send away, or feel free to comment below!


End file.
